I wake up this morning because I swear I hear a knock on my window. I lie there for a few minutes, determining that I must have heard something above me. I close my eyes and start to fall back asleep. After a couple minutes, I hear it again, on and off and then suddenly it almost sounds like someone’s throwing a bouncy ball at my window. I freak out and run over to Joe’s room and knock on the door and say “someone is knocking on my window and I am so freaked out!” By this point, it’s almost 7 am. So he says “why don’t you look from my window”. I do, and see nothing. So, I say OK, I’ll go look out my window. I do, while still hearing the noises, still completely freaked out, and there are two blackbirds hauling themselves repeatedly at my window. WTF. Thank GOODNESS I just wasn’t alone! Though, this is when I notice two guards with big machine guns in the near distance, And I’m thinkin maybe this ought to make me feel a little better next time I need to look out the window again…..????
Today… was nuts. Joe and I locked up just about all our belongings in our suitcase (just in case) and headed to breakfast where we picked and chose from the fresh fruits with frequently landing fruit flies(all of which had been cut open from fruits with thick skin! Very important because they don’t need to be washed off), and some bread/scrambled eggs/baked beans of some sort/hot dogs things. So I picked and chose a little from an unpeeled banana, piece of bread, a little beans and a half a dog. We even had coffee with milk, and we were successful, no sickness yet (knock on wood)….
We asked the hotel to call us a taxi and she wanted me to give her my phone so she could call because she said she couldn’t do it from the hotel, but we didn’t have one that works here. She eventually was able to call somehow and a taxi would be there in 30 minutes, which turned into 45 before he actually showed up – PS the hotel speaks no English; I got along with a little Spanish only.
We venture into the town… and it’s really just amazing. Probably at least 85% of the population lives in little huts made of trees and such but their property (in the “suburbs” just minutes outside the city) appears to be kept considerably clean. Pigs are running wild and goats are being “walked” on chains. The only real infrastructure there is was put up by foreign ministries – there are nice guarded houses right in the center for the foreign delegates and reasonably built buildings for the embassy workers but, that’s about the extent of it. The central market area is a shit show of chaos along the “roads” and on the streets crowded by hundreds of people walking around in the very slow, nonchalant, I’m going nowhere fast type of African walk that I have never seen anywhere else but in Africa. It sure is dirty, but it’s not the stifling city that Luanda was; it is much smaller and clearly much less populated than I remember Luanda to be. Because of this, it has a cleaner feel to me, but it surely is much less developed. There are beautiful African dresses everywhere, and lots of buckets on heads (which I love to see!) and even some great artesan work.
We go to the first grocery store which is right downtown. This store is far from air-conditioned but has a better selection than I thought they would have. After just 10 minutes I am SWEATING BALLS more than I have ever in my whole life, and was feeling really uncomfortable but knew I had to keep on plugging away. I had sweat stains all over my shirts and had beads dripping down my face. There was a guy there who apparently worked there and was either deaf or had a very difficult time speaking for one reason or another, and he kept babbling very loudly to customers coming in and out of the store. Meanwhile, there was a girl in the store who just sat around and watched everyone but came up to help me out anytime I was clearly lost cause I couldn’t find the price. Suddenly in the middle of pricing the lights start to go out and a worker mumbles something to me after staring blankly to my left. Closed now, open again at 4 PM.
So we continue on via car (very slowly cause there are holes everywhere in the road) to a pharmacy where we find a really nice guy who spoke a little English who helped us with all the medications we could find. What we couldn’t translate, Joe drew pictures for the guy. Sharades! Meanwhile he offered Joe and our driver some tea (but not me!) A boatload of nationals flew buy in a flatbed truck singing, chanting and waving flags (I didn’t get my camera in time), but I jumped for joy in intrigue and the guy said “you like?” I said “yes!” He said “then you go” and we both started laughing.
Then we went to a paper store where we met the owner who was Lebanese and had at least 5 young workers under him. After seeing his gated house, BMWs, and him telling us about his $9,000 medical trip to Senegal, Joe convinced me that this guy had to be a major drug dealer. Really, why else would this Lebanese guy want to live in Guinea Bissau – the #1 drug trafficking country in the world? Especially after complaining how absurdly expensive taxes were to import his few paper products in a dingy store that he had. Well, Joe and I were invited to eat lunch with him at his house on Wednesday so I will let you know how much more proof we can get for our story. He was a really nice guy though, who spoke English very well and gave us many ideas for our survey.
We eventually moved on to a Toyota dealership where we met a French guy who had lived in Guinea Bissau for 2 years with his wife and 2 kids. Before this he was in Kinshasa. God knows why he would ever want to live in Western Africa with a 5 year old and a 6 month old in a job that probably doesn’t even pay very much for years. He also was extremely helpful and provided us with many contacts. Going into all these stores were just mind-blowing. They were all dirty and run-down and dingy and cracked to say the absolute least. There was luxury nothing in this country. As a matter of fact, I was shocked to see a family living in a straw hut literally right outside the barriers of our hotel.
We ended with another spaghetti rendezvous (and I even tried some shrimp this time… all is well) and then I started passing out while going over prices (but promptly woke up after a shower with enough time to write!)
Goodnight, more tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment